


Your Everlasting Light

by justwanderingneverlost



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Jonerys Valentine's Week, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 08:50:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17825651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justwanderingneverlost/pseuds/justwanderingneverlost
Summary: Written for Jonerys Valentine's Week over on Tumblr. Prompt "Love Songs"After tiptoeing around their feelings and each other for weeks, Jon decides Valentine's is a good time to show Dany a little bit more of his heart.





	Your Everlasting Light

**Author's Note:**

> Hi peeps! Can't believe I managed this, I never write fast or do well with prompts. 
> 
> I think since this is also a tease from a fic I've been wanting to write for ages it came fairly easy. Some of you that are also on Tumblr may have seen some boards and short teases I've posted a few times for Under a Pale Heart, well here's another tease :) I will be expanding on this one day, but I can't promise when. Hope you enjoy! ❤️

 

They'd been tiptoeing around each other for weeks, ever since the night they'd fought off those fuckers that thought they could use her for a few hours of fun.

No more than work talk and common courtesies had been exchanged since. He'd wanted to ask if she was alright dozens of times, but always sensed it would only drag up something she'd soon forget. So he did his job, she did hers, and they skirted everything else. But he figured his eyes said as much as hers did every time they caught each other stealing a glance across the bar.

It was his job to watch her. Part of his deal with _The King_ –one of the stipulations he agreed to, to have his freedom. Of all the prices he was paying, that one was the least painful. Sort of. Taking punches, giving them back, those didn't hurt as much as seeing her shitstain of a brother manhandle her. Didn't anger him as much as seeing the fear in her eyes whenever he or Aerys threatened her. Didn't ache as much as wanting her, knowing he shouldn't, _couldn't_ have her.

He was nothing but trouble, and she had enough of that.

And yet it didn't seem to matter, to either of them. Whatever was flaring between them had grown to be something neither could ignore.

She watched him as close as he did her, though she usually tried not to be obvious. Tonight, she wasn't even bothering to hide it. Her ocean eyes had followed him, heady and heavy, every time he made his way to the store room for another case or keg. He broke out in a sweat each time, and not from the manual labor. They had twinkled like sunlight dancing off a crystal clear lake while she bantered with Ole’ Nick an hour ago, staring at him over the drunk's shoulder as she pretended to flirt back. It was Valentine's Day, so the old coot had been laying it on thick. Jon had silently offered to send him on his way, another of his jobs, but she'd shaken her head and threw him a wink.

But now, as they closed up, those eyes traced his every step, dark and enticing. Sent tremors down his spine. Set his heart to racing.

He hoped she didn't notice his fists clenching, the nervous tick needed to cover the storm of emotions she was stirring in him. _Did she know? Had she seen it?_

It was a stupid gesture, one he'd questioned since the moment he'd handed over his money earlier that afternoon. She wasn't his to spoil. But he knew enough to know, no one else would buy her anything. She was alone, had been for too long. Their customers had pestered her for weeks, asking if she'd picked a man to spend the romantic night with. She always laughed them off, or made a snarky comment that had them rolling. But Jon saw it in her eyes when she turned away from them, the sadness that dimmed the light they usually held.

Daenerys Targaryen had walls as high he did, but inside, he'd bet his life she felt the same. _Lost and lonely._ It wasn't right. Yes, she was tough as nails, could handle herself better than some men he knew. She didn't _need_ a man. But living a life without love, or very little of it did something to one's soul. Broke it, left it in cracked pieces that ached to be brought together again.

He couldn't help but wonder if her broken pieces might fit together with his.

He snorted out loud. He was an idiot. His hopes always turned to ashes, ground to dust each and every time. She deserved better than him, he had nothing of value to offer her. Just himself, _less_ than nothing. A pawn in a rich man's game. When that rich man grew bored, Jon would be thrown back where he'd found him.

But, maybe the rose laying hidden in the cooler would at least let Dany know someone had thought of her. And maybe bring a smile to her gorgeous face. A real one, not the fake one she wore more often than not. And if he wound up back in his cage, he'd remember that smile. Could soothe himself with the memory of it. That he'd put it there.

He’d finished putting all the chairs on the tables. Something she used to do, but not since he realized she was responsible for all the clean up every night, leaving her there till four and five am sometimes. _Fucking Viserys._ The want to beat his scrawny, arrogant ass to a pulp grew every time Jon saw him. Grabbing the broom, he began sweeping the floor, probably a bit too aggressively.

Dany was busy washing down the bar, had turned the stereo up as she always did. The Black Keys' bluesy riffs and drum beats filled the room, her lithe little body dancing as she worked.

_Let me be your everlasting light_   
_The sun when there is none_   
_I'm a shepherd for you_   
_And I will guide you through_   
_Let me be your everlasting light_

He didn't dare look up, watching her out of the corner of his eye through his curls as he swept.

_Let me be your everlasting light_   
_I'll hold and never scold_   
_In me you can confide_

She spun around and stepped up on her little stool–she couldn’t reach anything without it–and began putting away the glasses. Even balanced precariously, her hips and pert ass swayed, all encased perfectly by her tight jeans. The gauzy sweater she wore over her francy bra-like top hid nothing, the pale skin of her back and shoulders shining through as she twisted about. Her hair was up, a spiky silver knot on top of her bobbing head.

_When no one's by your side_   
_Let me be your everlasting light_

Her eyes caught his in the mirror and she smiled, real and radiant, leaving him frozen in place, in the middle of the bar, holding a broom, the awestruck fool he was. She made him feel as if he might float off the floor.

_Oh baby, can't you see_   
_It's shining just for you_   
_Loneliness is over_   
_Dark days are through_

He tore his eyes from hers and didn't look back on his way to the cooler afraid he'd forget all about the rose in favor of grabbing her up and kissing her sweet mouth. It was where he'd left it, at the back, hidden behind the bags of peanuts. The cool humid air had kept it fresh and unwilted, as if it had just been cut. It was a red so dark and velvety it was almost black. Her two favorite colors. He thought anyway. They were practically the only colors she ever wore.

His feet carried him back out to the front, but he wasn't looking where he was going, his mind focused on not fucking up what he would say to her. He collided with a soft body, the air rushing out of both of them. She bounced back and he grabbed her arms to keep her from falling, her wide eyes staring up at him.

“Shit, Dany, I'm sorry. You alright?”

A soft smile lit her face. “I'm fine, are you?” she asked, laughing a little.

He realized he was still holding onto her arms and abruptly let her go, stepping back. “Yeah, I'm okay.”

She pulled her plump bottom lip between her teeth and slowly let it slide free again. He wanted to do that, to taste her, feel her lips soft and plush against his, the bite of her teeth. To take her breath for his own and give his in return.

“Is that for me?” she asked, breaking through his stupor.

“Huh?”

She grinned, the apples of her cheeks flushed and nearly hiding her squinting eyes. _How could one woman be so breathtakingly gorgeous but as adorable as a new kitten too?_

“The rose?” she said, pointing at his hand.

He'd all but forgotten it being so close to her. She scrambled his damn brain better than a punch to the head.

“Oh, uh, yeah,” he sputtered and lifted it toward her, clearing his throat. “Happy Valentine's day, Daenerys.”

Her blush deepened, and she tentatively took it from him. She held it up to her nose, breathing in, long lashes resting against her cheeks. It took all he had not to pull her close and kiss her. Eyelids fluttering open, she gazed up at him, still smiling. “Thank you, Jon. It's beautiful. That was very sweet of you.”

He swallowed hard. “You're welcome,” he returned, wincing at how rough and husky his voice had sounded. _Get it to-fucking-gether Snow._

She spun around and walked to the bar, grabbing a glass and filling it with water before slipping the rose into it. “I have something for you too,” she said, coming back toward him, her full mouth quirked up into a sexy smirk.

“What?” Surely he heard her wrong.

She stepped closer. Close enough he could feel her warmth, smell her. Somehow her scent always made him think of sunshine and hope. Stunning him, she took his hand in both of hers and pressed it against the side of her neck. “Do you feel that?”

Her pulse was pounding a rapid beat beneath his palm, insistent, her skin hot. “Yeah,” he answered, the air leaving his lungs.

“Every time I see you, it happens. Did you know that?”

He shook his head.

“I think the same thing happens to you,” she whispered, running her other hand up his chest to rest over his heart. “Doesn't it?”

His heart _was_ pounding, the rush of blood in his ears nearly drowning out everything else. She did things to him no one else ever had. He'd never wanted anyone the way he did her, but he couldn't. He slipped his hand free from her warm neck and stepped away, his senses coming back to him.

“We can't. I'm not good for you. Your Uncle, he'll… He won't like this. I won't be the reason he hurts you.”

She shook her head, closing the space he’d put between them. “I don't care.”

He scowled. _If she thought he'd let her get hurt just to ease this ache between them..._ He gently grasped her by the arms, stopping her before she got too close. “ _I_ care.”

She relaxed in his hold, tilting her head at him, her expression knowing. He was in trouble. So much trouble. “Why did you buy me the rose?”

“Because I…” He dropped his hands, rubbing his sweaty palms down the seam of his jeans. His tongue was twisted in a knot, his throat closing up. He shook his head, eyes falling to the floor. He certainly couldn't confess with her staring into his soul like she was. “I don't know.” _Apparently, he couldn't confess at all._

“Yes, you do,” she countered.

“Dany–”

“Why Jon?”

“I wanted…” He huffed out a breath and flung his hand up. “You deserve to have someone care, alright? I wanted you to know at least one person thought about you today,” he professed in a rush.

Her lips were on his before he could stop her. Small, soft hands cupping his face, her dizzying scent filling his head, and he fell. She was a wave pulling him under and he no longer had the strength to fight against her tide. She was too soft, too warm, too _everything_. He needed her, wanted her too deeply to do anything else but kiss her back. Fingers delving into her hair, lips tasting hers–every bit as sweet as he knew they would be. He was starved and she was the only thing that would fill the empty ache.

He didn't know when or how, but she had pressed him to the wall, her hands hot and greedy as they slid under his shirt, running up his sides to his back His had found their way under hers as well. She was so fucking soft, her skin warm velvet against his callused hands.

Her mouth moved to his neck and his head fell against the wall with a thunk, eyes rolling back it felt so good. Hot, sucking kissing down his throat to the hollow between his collarbone, her tongue peeking out to taste him. All the blood had rushed from his head straight to his cock. It was so hard it hurt and had him groaning. She was tugging at his shirt and he was no longer thinking straight. He pushed away from the wall and yanked it off over his head before pulling her in for more.

He drank from her sweet lips as her fingers buried themselves in his hair, tugging him where she wanted him. Happy to let her lead, he followed her every cue. When her leg rose, sliding up his thigh to his hip, her moans stirring him tighter, he grabbed it and a handful of her ass, lifting her up. Luscious thighs wrapped around his waist and he carried her over to one of the tables, sweeping the chairs off with a loud clatter before placing her down on her back, keeping their bodies and lips molded together.

It was his turn to explore–her neck, her shoulders, down to her waist. He slid her sweater up and over her bra, kissing a path across the exposed skin of her stomach as she panted beneath him. Soon he was at the bottom edge of her bra and he didn't have to ask. She pulled it up and out of his way, her beautiful breasts spilling free. Weeks of imagining didn't begin to do her justice. She was the most beautiful sight his eyes had ever seen. He took both in his hands– _so soft and firm_ –and latched onto one stiff peak, sucking it into his mouth, teasing it with his tongue. Dany arched off the table, gasping, then she was writhing, her hips surging up into his. The heat of her soaked through their jeans and lit a fire deep in his spine.

He was going to spill like a boy if he wasn't careful. Distracting himself, he feasted on her breasts, drawing from one with his mouth as his fingers teased and pitched the other, her mewls and moans driving his hips forward in a slow grind. They'd barely touched for more than a few minutes, yet she seemed to be hanging from the edge just as he was.

Her hands released their grip on his hair and found their way to the waist of her jeans, fighting with it, hips wiggling beneath him. “Help me,” she breathed, “get them off. I want feel your mouth on me.”

He nearly came right then and there, letting out a raspy groan, his aching cock rocking against her. _God, what it would be like to actually taste her._ He’d thought about more than he wanted to admit. To be given permission had him nearly undone. But he'd keep it together, he needed to take care of her first, no way in hell he'd last more than a few minutes if he got inside her. He wouldn't leave her wanting. He stood and reached for the button on her jeans.

“Jon! What the fuck happened to you?” she gasped, eyes wide and full of concern as she sat up and pushed him back, her hands running down his chest and stomach, over every scar.

“Fuck,” he hissed, cursing himself for not thinking. _Godsdamnit_. When she found out, it was all over. Hell, it already was. He shook his head and stepped away, going over and grabbing his shirt off the floor. He was slipping his arms in when she pulled it from his hands, taking it hostage. She'd righted her top, her beautiful body covered again. He was such an idiot. “Dany, don't. Please,” he begged, reaching for his shirt.

She wasn't listening, her eyes fixated on the scar over his heart, partially hidden by the wolf tattooed across his pec. She came closer, hand hovering. He dropped his head back and closed his eyes at her touch. “Who did this to you?” she whispered, voice thin and broken, fingers trailing light as a feather over the scored crescent.

He shivered and flinched and she gasped, jerking her hand back, brow creased with worry. He grabbed his shirt, but she wouldn't let it go. “Dany, please.”

She released her grip, looking near tears. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you.” She chewed on her lip, her fingers now worrying the hem of her sweater. Her eyes… Every shade of green and blue and gold was staring at him, all of them full of her heart, and it was hurting. _For him_. “You don't have to talk about it, we can—”

He shook his head, putting his shirt back on. “ _No,_ we can't. I told you. I'm no good for you. You deserve better.”

She took his hand and laced their fingers together, squeezing hard. “I appreciate you looking out for me, I do. But that's my decision, Jon. Who's good for me, or not.”

He closed his eyes and sighed, trying not to think how good her hand felt in his. Warm, just the right fit, _steadying_. Like an anchor. He took a deep breath and met the eyes he knew had never left his face. “Yeah, alright. It is your choice, but you don't know enough about me to make that decision tonight, and when you do, you'll know I'm right.”

She reached up and tucked his hair behind his ear, the gesture slow and soft, chipping away at the walls he was trying so hard to keep standing. “I know enough about you,” she said quietly. “I know you don't stand by and watch people get hurt. You could've walked off, decided it was none of your business, or maybe that I deserved it.”

He shifted on his feet, scowling fiercely. “I would never think that.”

“You could’ve joined in,” she went on while he shook his head, jaw clenched in anger at the abhorrent thought. But her thumb was rubbing over his, washing the red from his vision. “Most men I know would have. But, you're not like them, are you? You're good to our customers even if they're acting like fools. You control your anger when my dick of a brother baits you. You're beautiful, and dangerous, I think, but you're not arrogant. You're a good man, with a good heart.”

He pulled a face. “Beautiful?”

She rolled her eyes and scoffed. “Yes, Jon, you're beautiful. It hurts me to look at you sometimes.”

“I know that feeling,” he said, eyes taking her in. He could drown in her and be happy about it.

“Did you hear anything else I said?” she asked, tugging on his shirt.

He dropped his eyes to her hand still in his. It almost felt as if it was someone else was holding hers. It'd been years since he'd touched a girl. Since one had touched him. Since anyone had touched him with any sort of affection.

He blew out a heavy breath and nodded. Her words… He wanted to believe them, but hearing you're no good all your life made it hard to see yourself any other way. He wanted to though.

“Jon, knowing all of that makes me want to know more,” she whispered. “I want to know everything.”

“That’s just it, Dany. That’s all the good there is. You won't like the rest.”

Her eyes flamed, lit with challenge. She poked a finger in the center of his chest “You don't know that, and there's a lot you don't know about me either. Maybe I'm just as bad as you.”

He snorted. “Not likely.”

She let him go and went back behind the bar. Pulling a bottle of Jack Daniels and two whiskey tumblers, she plunked them down onto the glossy wood. He expected her to pour them both a shot, but instead she turned around and dug through the bottom shelves, popping back up soon after with two coffee mugs. She placed them beside the rest and looked at him, smiling softly.

“Pick your poison, Jon Snow. We don’t have to work tomorrow, and sleep is overrated anyway. I'll spill my secrets, if you spill yours.”

He twisted his head at her, lips pursed tight, eyes cut and narrowed. Her smile turned wicked.

“C'mon, you know you want to. Drink with me, we'll talk all night about our shitty lives, play some pool, maybe watch the sun the come up. What better way to spend Valentine's, right?”

He sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. “You should be able to dress up, be taken to a fancy restaurant–given chocolate, flowers, diamonds.”

She snarled her nose as if she'd smelled something rotten. “I've had all that before, and you know what? It all left me feeling no better than a high priced call girl.”

He took a deep breath and blew it out, running his hands through his hair. He was a fool, wanting any scrap she could offer, knowing it would only lead to disaster in the end. Aerys probably wouldn't even bother sending him back, he'd just have him erased, maybe her too. _And what about his siblings?_

“Are you really gonna turn me down and send me home to spend it by myself?” she asked, obviously getting fed up with his stalling. She had a haughty eyebrow raised and her smile was nowhere in sight.

He rolled his eyes. “You, do not play fair,” he complained.

“Never said I did,” she shot back and slapped a hand down on the bar. “Look, Jon, I don't know what's going on with you, if you don't want whatever this is going on between us, fine, just say so. I'm a big girl, I can take. I think you'd be lying to both of us, but whatever. But if this is just you being too chicken shit to take a chance on me, then I…”

She trailed off, her eyes going wide as he stalked toward her, mouth gaping as he took her face in his hands and kissed her as if his life depended on it. And maybe it did. He'd been dead inside for far too long, but there was nothing about Daenerys Targaryen that didn't make him feel alive. That didn't make him _burn_.

He poured all of that need and want into his kiss, drowning her with it. Drinking her whimpers and moans, his tongue seeking hers, lips devouring, hands intent to absorb her until they were forced apart for air to ease their begging lungs.

She shuddered in his arms, her breath coming out in a feathery pants, his shirt gripped in her fists, as if that was all that was keeping her upright. He couldn’t help but grin to have wrecked her so.

“Jesus, Jon,” she gasped, her forehead dropping to his chest.

He nudged at her with his nose and mouth, her neck, her jaw, her cheek, drawing her eyes up to his. They were blown as wide and dark as a stormy sea and it was his turn to shudder. The want to take her right then and there was almost blinding, but somehow he kept himself in check, bringing his hand up to her face and running his thumb across her cheekbone.

“I’m not a chicken shit, I'm only trying to protect you.”

She shook her head and sighed, her fingertips scraping down his scruffy jaw, her brow pinched, full lips pouting. “Stop being so damn noble and tell me what it is you think is so bad, then let me decide if I need protecting from it or not.”

Whether it was her words, the care he saw glowing in her eyes, or something else altogether, Jon made his decision. He was being offered something life had saw fit to never give him. He might be a fool for grabbing it, but he'd rather go out a happy one, than a lonely one.

He let her go and took the bottle of Jack and opened it, pouring them each a large shot. He picked one, turned it up, the rich burn sliding down his throat and into his stomach, warming and calming. He poured himself another as she smirked at him.

“If I'm not drunk, you won't get a word outta me.”

She giggled and took the glass he offered her.

“Don’t say I didn't warn you,” he mumbled.

“I won't,” she grinned.

He clinked his glass against hers. “Happy Valentine's, Dany.”

She rose up on her toes, her soft lips brushing his. “Happy Valentine's, Jon,” she whispered and kissed him.


End file.
